Not all this, but something else, something more that Daphne could not have
put into words, spoke in the look which Thane surprised. It was but a flash
between long lashes that fell instantly and put it out; but no woman whose
heart was in the grave ever looked at a living man in that way, and the
living man could not help but know it. It took away his self-possession for
a moment; he stood speechless, gazing into her face with a question in his
eyes which five minutes before he would have declared an insult to her.

Daphne struggled to regain her mask, but the secret had escaped: shameless
Nature had seized her opportunity.

"How did I miss you?" she asked with forced coolness, as they turned up the
gulch together. For the moment she had forgotten about the spring.

Thane briefly explained the mistake that had been made, adding, "You will
have to put up with another day of us, now,--perhaps two."

"And where do you leave us, then?" asked Daphne stupidly.

"At the same place,--Decker's Ferry, you know." He smiled, indulgent to her
crass ignorance of roads and localities. "Only we shall be a day longer
getting there. We are still on the south side of the river, you remember?"

"Oh, of course!" said Daphne, who remembered nothing of the kind.

"It was a brutal fake, our springing this place on you for Pilgrim
Station," he murmured.

"It has all been a mistake,--our coming, I mean; at least I think so."